


His Wife In Passing

by VanStock1992



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, F/M, Forced Marriage, Forced Pregnancy, Mental Illness, PTSD, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25607047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanStock1992/pseuds/VanStock1992
Summary: In a different world - a better world - both young wizards returned from the center of the labyrinth alive with the Triwizard cup in hand. The wizarding world believed in what they had seen and was given years to prepare themselves for a war they could stop in it’s tracks. There was no death. There was no destruction. There was hardly any fear. All because one wizard committed an atrocious act and one witch gave the ultimate sacrifice.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, Severus Snape & Harry Potter - Relationship
Comments: 34
Kudos: 100





	1. Barely Breathing

“As (she) read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep; slowly and then all at once” - John Green, The Fault In Our Stars

Preface

_Hermione was radiant, a smile on her face and her hair twisted up on top of her head with more pins than Severus had known could be used at one time. Her robes were gold and ivory and he could not remember any colors that she had ever looked finer in. Had the last time he had seen her in that set actually been only three years prior? It felt like a tiresome lifetime. Merlin, he loved those photographs._

_He stood amongst her friends and professors, holding a small hand, and listened to her impassioned speech to the Wizgamont._ **_That’s my good girl._ ** _Severus could not keep the smile off of his face and would have clapped when she finished presenting her case if his arms were not otherwise occupied. All he could offer was a nod in response to her look that begged for his comfort and reassurance._ **_You did well._ ** _He could not have been more proud of her._

_The minister looked upon them with a furrowed brow. “Very well... Professor Snape, before we make our final ruling, are you here to contest Madam Snape’s request for emancipation from spousal guardianship and dissolution of magical marriage? It seems you did not submit any of the proper paperwork ahead of time but it is not too late to declare intent to contest or appeal. This court would accept a verbal declaration given the circumstances.” The wizard chinned towards where they stood_

_Severus knew he could stop the proceedings in their tracks with one word. All he would have to say was yes and they would deny both of her petitions to never be revisited or appealed. “No, I am not here to contest or appeal.”_

_“Are you sure, Professor Snape?” He pressed. “It would be no problem to dismiss this case if we were to do so now.”_

_He nodded. “Yes, I am positive.” Severus needed to get out of that courtroom as soon as possible. The air was thick and the weight on his chest did not calm him as it usually did. Hermione smiled painfully at him and he willed her not to cry._ **_Everything will be fine, my love._ ** _“I have owed Miss Granger her freedom for a very long time.” If Severus Snape loved his wife the way he knew he did, then he could stand the pain of letting her go._

Chapter 1: 

There were very few in the wizarding world that were comfortable talking about what happened to Hermione Granger. Oh, they knew - everyone knew - and it was all the more reason for their low hissing on the rare occasion they said her name. Most preferred to instead refer to her as _that girl_ , _the poor dear_ , or _a small price to pay_. The final was the doing of the Ministry of Magic, which had made a point to make themselves appear nothing but grateful for the knowledge they had obtained from her memories which had been played before the Wizengamot during the very brief criminal trial of Severus Snape. With the help of Kingsley Shacklebolt, The Order had been able to press for the pensive to be publicly cast as a three dimensional projection, leaving no doubt in the minds of the Ministry, the press or the public what had occurred in the graveyard the night Peter Pettigrew had attempted to bring The Dark Lord back from his near death state. In combination with both Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory’s identical accounts, there had been little sense in arguing the course of events. Hermione Granger had done what they had set out to do when she and the potions master had quickly followed after the wisp of a portkey signature left in the center of the labyrinth, giving the wizarding world years to prepare that they otherwise never would have had. To all known accounts, she had done it fearfully and painfully, but undoubtedly willingly. 

Severus Snape had been swifty acquitted on all charges with only one condition to his immediate release which he was given no opportunity to accept or refuse. In fact, they had treated it as a gift, as if his greatest wish in life was to be given yet another hefty responsibility. How could he have attempted to argue against it? It was not as if there had been competition over the responsibility for Miss Granger’s care and guardianship. As far as he was concerned his guilt was inarguable and his punishment more cruel than the dementors’ kiss but no less than the wizard believed he deserved. 

From his arrest to his exoneration, Severus had only spent five weeks in Azkaban before being thrust back into the world and publicly declared a hero. Much could happen in five weeks. Much _had_ happened in five weeks, but far too little had been done to correct it. In that span of time, Miss Granger’s ministry appointed guardian had made a point to only consent to the most minimalistic and lowest liability routes of care. No visitors had been permitted, no cosmetic surgeries completed and not a single elective potion administered. Hermione had spent the time slowly healing, wasting and writhing in pain. It was no surprise to him that she was no longer sane when he found her at St Mungo’s with no plausible date of release in sight. The surprises would only come another month later when Severus Snape was informed that _his_ definition of elective and _their_ definition of elective were two entirely different things.

On Hermione’s behalf Snape had pursued a civil case against the official guardian in question and their ministry department head, which had been quickly dismissed publicly as an overreaction and settled privately for a sum of galleons he set aside to pay for her potentially lifelong professional care. It would not be enough by any stretch of the imagination, but his Order Of Merlin earnings and Hogwarts salary would cover the rest. There had been several offers of financial assistance help from the likes of Minerva McGonagall, Potter, and the Diggory family that Severus had less than respectfully declined. Mrs Weasley had offered her time to care for the girl, even suggesting she take up residence in what Snape was disturbed to find was their home. No, Miss Granger was his responsibility. He would make do.

At least twice a week for the last ten months, he had sat in the Deputy Headmistress’s Office with a cup of tea on the table in front of him and his head in his hands. On this morning, which was fortunately a Saturday, McGonagall did not bother sitting across from him in silence and instead graded papers at her desk while Professor Snape brooded in self pity on her couch. If she were to stop her work every time he needed to sulk with company, she would never get anything done.

It was him that spoke first, as it always was, and there was a croaking in his voice that would have indicated tears had he been capable of shedding them. “This is all too much.” Severus allowed himself to shutter once with a dry sob and then dismissed it to the best of his abilities. “I cannot do this any longer, Minerva.”

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and let out a _tsk_ before realizing these were not his typical pitying accounts of the young witch’s condition laced with frustration. It was an exhausted confession from a wizard who had nothing left to give. She opened her mouth, closed it and opened it again. “From where I sit you do not have much of a choice, Severus. I am quite sure you know that.”

He nodded and rubbed his eyes. “That changes nothing. There is little more I can do for Hermione.” After all this time Snape winced when he said her name, but forced himself to do so. He would take absolutely no part in the egregious act of erasing her from the world. She had existed. Even now that Miss Granger was no longer herself, she was _real_. Not an idea. Not a savior. Not a character. She was a real witch that had once learned and still lived and breathed. And he had destroyed her. “I cannot look at her dazed expression or watch her fumble through a children’s book without wanting to Avada myself into oblivion, which I also cannot do. How is one supposed to go on when each day they see the empty eyes of a child that suffers every time they close their own? Then when they do, how do they breathe?”

“You breathe because you have to keep going forward. For her. You owe her that.” Minerva stood and crossed the room to reheat his tea and place a hand on the wizard’s back. “You've seen much worse in your days, Severus. Dare I suggest you’ve done much worse; we both know that to be true. There is no reason that you should not be able to stand this. There is no reason you should not be able to endure for Hermione now. Even if we could change the past it would be foolish. You did the right thing, Severus. The both of you did the right thing.”


	2. His Child Bride

Severus Snape did not in the least want to be in Diagon Alley that day. It was ridiculous that it was required of him but someone in the situation had to be an adult and evidently - yet again - it would have to be him. The letter he had received, that left him feeling obligated to cancel his classes, had stated that she had been begging to go to Flourish and Blotts by herself for a week and he sensed that Launa had gotten tired of hearing it. To that he had nearly broken the muscles behind his eyes with their excessive rolling. The nurse was certainly paid enough to tolerate much worse for significantly longer.

Severus swallowed his pride and stared at the bushy haired child who was hunched over a potion volume in the corner of the shop. He watched her squinting at the words and becoming frustrated when she could not make them out. To this day he was unsure if it was her mind or her vision and Severus knew it was about time he took her to a muggle optometrist to find out for sure. Bringing her out in public, until very recently, had seemed more to her detriment than her benefit. 

Hermione had arrived before him and not noticed his presence at any time during the hour he had been secretly watching her. Her clothes hung loosely, her Hogwarts uniform abandoned for a set of pale gray robes with dark blue embroidery around the collar. She wore them over muggle clothes he swore she had owned in her earliest school years. The robes were second hand - perhaps even third or forth - and he cursed the chit silently for not utilizing the gold he had left at her disposal. She could have been adorned in much finer fabrics than the ones she settled for. He would need to take her for measurements and send for new clothes himself. Certainly Madam Malkin’s could show him a catalogue with pieces worthy of a wizarding wife in the circles he frequented. Perhaps then people would believe she was being properly taken care of.

Nearly without conscious thought, he was moving towards where she stood. Her teeth pulled painfully on her bottom lip and he wished he could smooth away the indent they were making in her flesh. Above her chin were a series of small scabs that would have looked like acne from a distance and he made a note to send the nurse a vial of the most gentle healing potion he could make. Hermione did not need any more scars. 

“Miss Granger?” He waited hesitantly for her attention, which came slowly in the form of an uncurling spine while she stood up straight to face him. Their eyes met and roles were reaffirmed faster than greetings could have been spoken. Darkness and light. Predator and prey. Perpetrator and victim.

“Hello.” She whispered, nearly breathlessly.

“Are you well?” Snape asked, resisting the urge to feel her forehead and cheeks to detect a fever. Looking into those large sunken and glossed over brown eyes gave him chills just as they had the very first time the wizard had seen them at St Mungo’s. _What have I done to you?_

Hermione nodded, staring past his right shoulder. Severus was aware the nurse had been working with her on making eye contact and eye-level was their current compromise.

“I am pleased to hear that.” He assured her, though he had received quite a different impression while going over the reports that landed at his desk shortly after she fell asleep every evening. Had it really been almost a year that they had been forced so fully into one another’s lives? All the while, wondering how far their new reality was from the future they had hoped for? For so long they had tried to find and pick up the pieces to assemble a future they could both live with. It was a quickly discovered unfortunate truth that those shards had shattered too finely to be put back together again. Far too many of them had blown away in the sweeping winds that followed to maintain any sense of structure. Whatever remained of Miss Granger was inevitably unstable. That was why he had put her in private care and decided to be done with it. There was no need for a board of hospital directors to scrutinize his every decision regarding the girl. His wife. The wizard felt sick at the thought. She should have been at Hogwarts at the end of her fifth year - she was only sixteen for Merlin’s sake - and was instead nearly prisoner at his dreary old house on Spinners End. 

“I-I wanted to-you know but I- surely very busy. Of course I could- I know- some tend to bite. Owls are very fast. Fuck.” The witch cursed to herself and curled her arms around the book that she pressed hard against her chest and belly. It reminded Severus of sights from the war - when wizards left to die slowly would try to hold back their intestines that threatened to spill from their bellies. Had he left Miss Granger to that same fate? Was she cursed to feel the emptiness when her arms gave way? 

He sighed, and let the question he had wanted to ask spill from his tongue. Surely, she would not offer up the information unprompted but she would also never deny him if he asked. “How is everyone at home?” Her face did not wrinkle with any type of disgust when he asked.

“Well. Umm, thanks.” She said, staring down at his feet. 

Severus sighed and tried to lower his voice into something soothing. “Do not thank me for caring for my own. It is my duty and I will continue to fulfill it. Simply tell Launa what you need and consider it done.”

Hermione kept her eyes downcast and muttered indistinguishable things to herself. At least indistinguishable to the ear. His years as a spy made lip reading a decent talent of his. She was rehearsing what to say. “I meant, thank you for asking.”  
“Of course I am going to ask, you stupid chit.” Snape seethed and softened when Hermione cowered before him. His hand wrapped around her arm to keep her on her feet so as to not draw unwanted attention to their conversation, and he cast a silencing charm around them. If it had not been two in the afternoon on a Monday, a crowd would have already been gathered around to gawk. “I should not have yelled, but damn it all Miss Granger. Edmund is my son too. What kind of father would I be if I neglected to ask?”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” The witch smacked her book against her thighs with every word and eventually she began to steady her breaths. “Stupid, stupid, stu- Would you- today even- stupid, stupid- if you wanted to may- stupid chit- terribly bus- papers and mar- stupid, stupid chit- until the term ends… shit shit shit!” Her hands flew up over her face, letting the book in her arms drop to the floor with a thud that Hermione was far beyond hearing. On her toes, she rocked up and down in the way Snape knew she tended to in her efforts to soothe the frustrating experience of when words evaded her.

 _Why did I have to say that?_ Severus thought, knowing full well exactly why he did. If Hermione frustrated him, then Edmund was absolutely infuriating. Unlike in the case of his mother, there was nothing wrong with the boy. In fact, aside from the impossible to ignore manor in which he was conceived, Severus Edmund Snape was absolutely perfect. He was too perfect for the wizard to accept he deserved. Naming their son after himself had been painful and deliberate, but not self honoring. When the ministry paperwork had crossed his desk Severus thought about it for three days before naming the child more or less after himself. While he knew the truth that he was nothing but a monster, the rest of the wizarding world made it clear they saw him quite differently. Perhaps his son would eventually benefit from being named after the wizard who many thought had saved them all. Either way, naming Edmund after himself left no doubt in anyone’s mind that the professor was recognizing him as a valid heir. He would not tolerate his son being viewed as unwanted. Their ministry required marriage already made certain no one would say he was a bastard.

Ignoring the bile that rose in his throat every time he had to perform the action, Severus wrapped his arms around the girl and pulled her into his outer robes to hide her from the overwhelming world and their prying eyes. How could she allow it? After all that had happened, what was such an intelligent young witch doing allowing the wizard that ruined her mind and therefore her life to take her in his arms? It was proof that she did not have any of her prior sense of self preservation remaining. Hermione Granger had been destroyed.

Her tears soaked into his coat and his lips found the top of her head, instinct taking over. He had done this plenty of times in the beginning, even as recently as a month prior. But with the birth of the boy, Severus Snape had found he could no longer stand to be in that house. It was impossible to bear watching another child conceived against a young witch’s wishes be raised within those walls. Even imagined curses seemed to follow him everywhere he went.


	3. Pain In Place Of Mercy

Plenty of excruciating things had happened in the life of Severus Snape, and surprisingly receiving the piece of cardstock that the wizard held in his hands sat above teaching Neville Longbottom, twenty years of staff meetings and enduring the cruciatus curse. Yes, one of the very most painful things that Severus Snape had ever experienced was receiving an invitation in the post to his own son’s christening.

It was not unlike those he saw opened around the great hall in the third to last week of the school year. The year that would have been her fifth. The other cards had been sent to Potter, the Weasleys, the headmaster and deputy headmistress or Remus Lupin. The invitation simply listed the date, time, location and a request that the guests forgo gifts in favor of their presence. It came with no special note which could have playfully pointed out the ridiculousness of what he had received and stated that Miss Granger had only intended for him to have it for a memory box or scrapbook. The only personalization came in the form of the hand addressed envelope.

Her handwriting was not what it had once been. Every letter was waved and jagged as if written with a trembling fist, and the words lacked the proper spacing to tell them apart unless scrutinized. His name had been crossed out several times, scribbled into an black blob so she could start again. Severus imagined her day nurse standing over her shoulder and insisting - with every frustrated cry or groan Hermione made while working over the parchment - that the caretaker would be happy to write them out for her. The Professor sure paid her enough to address a stack of ruddy envelopes. Yet, he could almost hear the determined little witch deny her with a line that he knew was said often in the house on spinner's end, which he had dedicated to Miss Granger’s intensive care. 

“I would rather do it myself.” 

And do things herself she would. It amazed the doctors, nurses and psychologists that despite struggling to care for herself - needing near constant reminders to sleep, eat, bathe, take her potions or keep hydrated - Hermione was an excellent mother. In the beginning, Severus had feared he would have to make the executive decision to find a full time governess for their son that would keep him away. How could she have wanted to raise a baby conceived in such a manner? She was so young and so broken. The ministry would have allowed it, as the girl had been declared mentally incompetent quite soon after her arrival at St Mungos. Thankfully, his fears had been proven unnecessary. The girl had surprised them all by not only loving the child she birthed with the depths of her very being, oftentimes sobbing if he was taken out of her hands, but by insisting on attending to his every need. Reports from both the day and night help detailed that she made it  _ more  _ than clear that she was to change every diaper, soothe every rash, kiss away every tear and even nurse the boy, denying the bottles and formula that he had purchased in large quantities in preparation for his son’s arrival. 

What caused an ache in his chest was that many of her letters would go unanswered, and she would receive just as many notices declining her invitation. They would call it generous, but state they had previously made commitments. Potter would say he had an essay due, and the Weasley boy would mention quidditch practice. His sister wished to go but upon finding out that Professor Dumbledore, the only one with the authority to take her on such an outing, was not attending she would inevitably miss it. Professor McGonagall would try to attend, getting dressed in her finest robes and trying to poster a smile on her face, but inevitably fail to leave her quarters just as she did every time the girl requested her company. So on and so forth it would go, the people she had grown to see as family - witches and wizards she had trusted - would let her fall to the wayside. For some reason, they could not understand that their discomfort at seeing her in such a state was a small price to pay for the happiness it brought her to receive visitors.

In the end, there would be only six people in attendance in a church that held four hundred. Himself, Hermione, their son, Remus Lupin, Launa the nurse and a priest performing the ceremony. Severus Snape knew this to be true only thirty seconds after opening the printed invitation that bore a white cross and a small hot glued bow. And he would find himself absentmindedly hoping that the little witch had allowed her nurse to handle that part for she surely would have gotten herself burned. As far as he was concerned, his young wife had experienced more than enough pain for one lifetime. Unfortunately, in that regard, there were those that disagreed with him.

______________

“Are you out of your bloody mind?!” Snape yelled, pacing the fireplace in front of the headmasters office. “You have lost every last one of your marbles if you think that this is a good idea. Your last wire has been cut and your broken down train of thought sent off it’s tracks! The final brain cell that you have remaining pinging around your dusty old skull must be incredibly lonely. Not only is this idea of yours foolish and to her detriment but it is positively and sadistically cruel. No, Albus, I simply will not allow it. Permission  _ not  _ granted.”

Albus crossed his legs and placed his hands over his knee. “Cruel towards who, exactly? Perhaps you are making this more about yourself than you are about Madame Snape. In any case, the girl wished to get an education not long ago, Severus. Surely you cannot believe she of all people should be denied a place at Hogwarts.”

Severus groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling with the words to explain to the wizard before him that this was an awful idea. “Things change, Albus. I highly doubt the girl can handle a rigorous class schedule, taking care of that baby and keeping herself alive! And where would she stay? There are no mothers quarters at this school. Let alone mother, child and full time nurse quarters. I have a full time nurse and an alternate - each paid a salary - to care for Hermione mornings, days, nights and weekends! Would they simply follow her around the castle to be gawked at more than she already would be? And who would look after my son while I teach and his mother learns? You have no answers and for that reason as well as nearly a thousand of others this is a terrible idea!”

“My boy, she is your wife. She would be in your quarters and we can move some classes around to create a room for your little bundle of joy.” Snape since day his choice of words. “If you’re with her, she will hardly need a full time nurse and Hermione is more than capable of listening to a lecture and holding a baby at the same time. It is not as if she could write notes for herself.” There was a noticeable change in his voice, referencing her horrible handwriting before he continued. “Worry not, Severus. I am sure her professors would be happy to share their lesson plans for her to reference and accept abridged essays. None of it is the problem you make it out to be.” Professor Dumbledore looked quite pleased with himself, despite the glaring black eyes of the man pacing in front of his desk.

“Either way, she could not read them. The notes or the required texts. This is as unacceptable as it is impossible,” Snape said. “I will not have her in my rooms or in my bed. Hermione is a  _ child _ , Albus.” 

The old wizard raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I was quite sure she had been frequenting your bed for some time now with how often you used to visit Cokeworth, up until perhaps a little over a month ago. In addition, the laws are quite clear on required marital relations for the first fifteen years after a magical binding. Unless you’ve been paying the fines?”

Severus gave one short nod in confirmation. It had cost him a small fortune, but he would not do what they asked of him. Miss Granger needed a guardian because she was too young and damaged to make decisions for herself. Never again would he take her body against her will. Even thinking of her form laying next to his in the dark brought forth vile memories of what happened in that clearing just outside of the graveyard. The blood. The tears. Her screams. Horrific dark spells he had needed to use to break every bone in her body before using her for his own pleasure. He had to vomit and reached a trash can only moments before emptying his stomach. “I am there to care for her, not to take advantage.” He wiped the acid from his lips with the back of his hand and cleaned up the mess while catching his breath.

“She wishes to return, Severus.” Albus sighed. “Alongside the kind invitation I received last week - and please do assure her that I wish I could have attended - she sent a note asking for her wand. Hermione is well aware that she may only have her wand if she continues and later completes her magical education. She knows the cost. What she does not seem to be aware of is that I do not have it in my possession. I had never intended to deny her that birthright no matter what the ministry wanted. Why can’t you say the same?”

Snape scoffed at the accusation. “What, do you think I took it for, my own pleasure? She is a danger to herself. Surely you can see that also makes her a hazard to everyone else in the castle.” 

“And yet, you do not seem to believe she is any danger to your son.” The elderly wizard smiled knowingly. “Very curious, is it not?”

Plopping into an overstuffed armchair, Severus ran his fingers through his hair. “Of course I trust her with Edmund. Sometimes I believe he is her reason for living.”

“I agree.” Dumbledore’s smile turned to a flat thoughtful look. “The lone concern I do have - and likely share with you, Severus - is how the girl will be received when she returns. It appears that Mr Potter and Mr Weasley both have been neglecting their friendship with Madame Snape and I cannot help but wonder what the cause of that might be.”

Snake raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not to me, I’m afraid.”

“They are  _ uncomfortable  _ seeing her in that state. Just as Minerva and yourself seem to be.

At first the old wizard sputtered before smoothing out his voice into what Professor Snape knew was a tool of deception. “Well, yes. We do all appreciate her sacrifice, Severus, and still being faced with such a sacrifice is much different than admiring it from afar. For her to have endured what she did and has since then is simply-“

Severus completed his thought. “-a fate worse than death.”

Albus bowed his head. “I have considered if that is true, but have decided it is not. Though Madame Snape can not express herself as she once did, I do believe she is still in there. Below the layers, she is still the brightest witch of her age and destined to do great things if we can chip away at them.”

“You are wrong.” Severus said bitterly, crossing the room again to pour himself too much dark liquor from the hidden cabinet. He sipped it in too large of swigs, knowing he held the truth. He was the only one that regularly laid eyes on her. “Hermione should have died in that clearing. If I was a braver man, I would have killed her in the end to spare her this suffering.”

“Severus, my boy, surely you do not believe that.”

“Yes. I. Do.” Snape balled his free hand into a fist and gripped his glass too tightly. “Albus, she is a shell of the witch she once was and she bloody knows it! Imagine for just a second how horrendous it would be to live as she does? To be just broken enough to know what you have endured, to know that you are no longer yourself and be unable to put a sentence together to beg someone to kill you. Her every living moment is no less than agony.”

“Agony for who, Severus?” Albus stood, came around the desk and tried to offer the wizard a fatherly embrace.

He shrugged the caring hand off of his shoulder. “She does not deserve to be this way. And now you want me to force her to endure more pain, more struggle, more danger to do what? Coach Potter to defeat the dark lord? If you have not noticed, Albus, Hermione is incapable of defeating her own ruddy breakfast! Oh, but you would not know that because I am the only person that bothers visiting her.”

“I will visit her when she returns.” Dumbledore smiled.

“No. You. Won’t. No one will. It will still be too painful. She will be an outcast. No one will see her as Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age anymore. They will see her as-“

“-as Hermione Snape. The girl who bought us all time to prepare.”

“No,” Severus shook his head. “They will see her as the potion master’s whore, who the greasy haired bat of the dungeons raped, impregnated and shattered into a million tiny pieces.”

Even Albus could not remain composed at the assertion that someone could believe that. “Our world appreciates her sacrifice and gives her our respect. Not an ill word has been written in connection to her name. Yes, there will be an adjustment period but that means that people  _ will _ adjust.”

“Why do you want Miss Granger here, now? You made it perfectly clear you did not want her brought back to this castle even when I had no intention of doing so.” There had to be a reason.

“Things change, my boy.”

“What things have changed that I have not been aware of?”

“Fine. The Ministry wants to take your son and out Hermione back into St Mungos on a Wizgamont order.”

“What!”

“This should not surprise us, Severus. You are his only custodial parent, as  _ you  _ have legal ownership of Madame Snape being that she is your wife and she is legally speaking incompetent. Ever since Edmund was born you have started leaving them weeks at a time with only nurses and owl deliveries of supplies. The Ministry will use any excuse to put them both somewhere out of sight and out of mind. If they are in the school, the ministry has no legal jurisdiction. You will bring them both here tonight and that will be that.”

What choice did Severus have, really? If he lost Hermione and Edmund, what reason would he have not to toss himself off of the castle’s highest peak? His death was well deserved.

“Fine, I will do it on one condition.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “Summon Weasley and Potter go to my office immediately. It is time I had a word with them regarding their treatment of my wife.”


	4. A Very Good Girl

Harry knew why he and Ron had been called down to the dungeons to meet with the man that they both hated and knew was a hero. It was about her. Not unlike the rest of the world, the both of them rarely spoke her name and when they did it was only ever to each other. Talking about Hermione only made things more painful in a world where he could not have considered it possible. A world where her absence was everywhere. A world where her silence was deafening.

Sitting before Snape had them both bouncing their knees. The wizard had been silent since they entered but was sitting at his desk with his hands wound together on the table in front of him and his gaze averted just enough to avoid looking them in the eyes. Had he ever seen him so somber? Never. The longer they sat with only the sound of dripping dungeon ceilings saving them from perfect quiet, the more Harry realized that Snape was not simply somber. He was devastated.

“No,” His heart dropped into his stomach. “Oh gods no. Professor please tell me that nothing has happened to Her-“

The wizard finally met him and shook his head. “She is in much the same condition as before. Only her most obvious affliction has been remedied.”

“I heard when I got the invitation.” Harry said. “She had a boy.”

“Yes, Potter, my  _ wife _ has given me a son. Is that some sort of problem for you?” Suddenly he was nearly baring his teeth at them. Harry shook his head. “What about you, Mr Weasley? Would you like to share an opinion on my family?”

Harry gave Ron daggers, urging him not to open his mouth. Of course he did not listen. “Well ‘can’t imagine most are happy with the idea. I’m no different. She shouldn’t have had that baby.”

Oh Merlin, he wanted to smack or hex his best friend to shut him up. Professor Snape seemed to have frozen with a look of fury and it took more than a minute or two for the fires to calm. “I will ignore your inappropriate outburst on the condition that it never happens again.” Harry watched the wizard struggle with his composure but marveled at the fact that he had not assigned them both detention every evening for the next two years. “What I have come to tell you is that neither of you will be on the train when it pulls out of the station in Hogsmeade. Do not bother packing your belongings and if by some miracle either of you have for once thought ahead more than a day, you will unpack immediately so the elves do not transport your luggage on your behalf. It would be quite unfortunate to be missing your clothes for the entirety of the summer.”

“What?” Ronald gawked and this time Harry did give him a hard jab to the ribs. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Shut up, Ron.” Harry muttered, nearly feeling the piercing black eyes staring at him with contempt. “For once in your life, shut up.” When he said it he immediately regretted his lashing tongue. Over the last year his patience with his friend had grown thin. It amazed him how grating someone could be when he had to cope with him alone. “Alright, Professor. We won’t pack.” His heart thudded in his chest and he accepted what this meant. Hermione’s sacrifice had not bought them much time at all - her suffering had been for nothing - and the two of them were going to be kept there to prepare for the inevitable war.

Snape relaxed and leaned back in his chair with one dark eyebrow raised. “Are you really not going to ask why you are going to spend your summer in an empty, damp, castle? With nothing to do but skip rocks and sweep corridors? Hmm?” He challenged Harry.

“No, Professor. I'm nearly certain as to why we won’t have a relaxing or enjoyable summer.” Harry said.

“Oh,  _ not enjoyable _ ?” The fire reignited and the wizards words were spat like leaking venom from the fangs lined mouth of a snake. “Well I suppose I should apologize for even suggesting ruining what you were hoping would be a leisurely holiday. Obviously you have far more important things to do than pay a fraction of the debt that you both, but specifically  _ you  _ Mr Potter, owe. By all means, skip off to play quidditch at what Mr Weasley has the audacity to call a ‘home’. Enjoy yourselves. I am sure we will be fine here without either of you!”

Harry sat wide eyed, now lost in the conversation. “What do you mean, Professor? What debt? Who am I leaving alone?”

His nostrils flared and he eyed both young wizards with as much contempt as he could handle without cursing them into oblivion. “You owe but one living person your life, Potter. Or do you not remember?”

Ronald looked at him, equally anxious and confused. One person he owed his life to? Did he not owe his life to the entire order? To Cedric Diggory? To Hermi-? The realization hit him at full force. Of course it was Hermione. At that moment he could not have felt more foolish if he had stepped in hippogriff dung and tracked it across white carpets. “I do remember. We both remember. What does Hermione need? Whatever it costs, consider it done.”

Snape crosses his arms. “Her needs are fully attended to, so you need not bother. However, I believe that while I despise the notion of having either of you near me for the two months of the year that are usually utilized by myself and every other staff member for recovery from your antics, it would be to my wife’s benefit for the two of you to be around as she is reacclimated to her environment.”

“‘Mione is coming back to school?” Ron sat forward in his chair. “She’s better?”

Snape did not speak and Harry sighed. Professor Dumbledore had been giving him small bits of information about her health when he spent enough time begging for it. As far as he had been there was no hope of improvement. “No, Ron, she’s not.”

“Then why is she coming back?”

Again, Harry looked to the wizard before him that he now saw was weary and completely at a loss. His eyes were sunken in and his skin gone from sallow to entirely translucent. His anger had died down in seconds rather than the hours Harry recalled watching the man sustain it during many long detentions over the years. No, Hermione certainly had not improved and her return was not something to celebrate, but to help her endure. “It doesn’t matter why she’s coming back. We’re staying. At least, I’m staying. I shouldn’t speak for you, Ron, but needs our help and I will do whatever is asked of me. You have my word, Professor.”

Severus passed through the wards on the front door into the house just as one stepped from day directly into night. Despite only being four in the afternoon, the house on Spinner's End was damp and dreary. The heavy curtains had been pulled, only one or two candles in each room had been lit and every switch throughout the house had been covered in tape in the ‘off’ position. This was the darkness his son was being raised in and Severus cursed the nearly unsolvable problem. Hermione could not stand the light anymore, brightness bringing panic attacks upon the poor girl after her attack had taken place in the harsh blasts of a small battle. How Ablus Dumbledore figured he would turn the castle dark wherever she went was far beyond even his imagination.

He found her in the nursery, holding Edmund over her shoulder and gently patting him on the back. “Good afternoon, Miss Granger. How is the boy today?”

Hermione’s dry lips cracked and beaded with blood when she pressed them into a thoughtful line. “Hungry and tired. Growing. Needs bigger nappies.” She rocked back and forth and kissed the infant where she could reach which was nowhere near the tuft of black hair on the top of his head that he was too small to hold up on his own. 

“I will be sure to have them brought to you.” He knelt down before her and began the tedious task at hand. It did not ever signify any improvement and he had long since given up hope that was even the goal. All Severus could do was verify that there had not been further decline. He shined his wand light in her eyes, watching her pupils dilate and return to normal size when the light was extinguished. “What is your name?” Snape asked, gripping her wrist and watching the watch on his own to check her pulse. She was obviously stressed, but not abnormally so.

“Hermione Snape.” She answered and he hid the way he flinched, as he did every time he was reminded of just another thing he had taken from her. It was a positive sign that she remained aware of changes in her life.

Severus nodded. “Yes, good. Who is he, Hermione?” The wizard pointed to the infant in her arms.

A dreamy smile grew across her face, unfortunately much like the grins he had seen on the face of the Lovegood girl. “You, but Edmund.”

He signed, deflated. Though her answers changed frequently, she never got that question correct. “No, sweet girl, that is not me. I am right here.” Snape pressed the back of his hand to her forehead and noted her temperature was fine. Years of potion making had made his senses keen enough to tell within a tenth of a degree. “I will ask again. Who is the baby?”

“You!” She urged and lifted the non supporting hand to poke him in the chest. Long gone was her smile and instead she furrowed her brow in frustration. “He is you, but he is Edmund and then he is Snape.”

To that he lifted an eyebrow. Was she saying they shared the same name? As far as he could recall, she never had done that. Launa was given instructions not to tell her things that might upset her and legalities were on that list. “Are you talking about his name? Can you tell me his full name?”

“Yes, I can.” Hermione nodded quickly with a light in her eyes. “Severus Edmund Snape.”

Snape folded his head in surprise but could not stop the slight upturning of his lips. “That is correct. Who told you that?” She had not written their son's first name on the invitations and as far as Severus was concerned she believed his first name was just Edmund.

“I knew. You told me once.”

It was not true. As far as he could remember he had not told her anything about their son’s name. In fact he had never even held the child. She had to have learned it from someone else or been confused.

“Let me see him.” Severus insisted and sighed when the witch did not react. “Give me the boy.” He reached out towards the black haired child. “Now, Hermione.”

“No.” She clutched him tighter and shook her head with a furrowed brow. “Mine. Go now.”

His teeth ground with the tensing of his jaw and he reached for the baby. “I cannot do that. Give me my son, immediately, before I restrain you and take him. Quickly!” The professor snapped and untangled her fingers from where they gripped the child too tightly. Snape hoisted him into his own arms and rocked him to soothe the cries from his mother’s digging fingers. He had never been this close to the child before. His son. Oh Merlin, Severus was tired of feeling nauseous.

“He’s hungry!” Hermione cried out, shaking quietly.

The baby had his hair, which he noticed while staring into a carbon copy of his own void like eyes, but her nose and lips. The complexion was his blemishless smoothness but her warm coloring. Gods, he was perfect. 

She sobbed to herself, head in her hands, and he knelt down beside her placing the child between them and guided her hand to hold his tiny sock clad food. “Shh, you are quite alright. See, Edmund is fine. I am sorry that I was harsh and raised my voice. I only wanted to hold our son. He looks like you, which is a mercy. Hermione, I am not foolish enough to believe you will ever trust me so I will not ask it of you. I simply ask that you believe I wish no more harm to come to you and Edmund. Can you believe that?”

Though her bottom lip trembled more than that of the infant in his arms, she nodded and gave him a distant smile. Those were the only smiles she could give anymore. “I trust you.” 

Had she needed to say that? Was it absolutely necessary that he be stabbed in the chest each and every time she gave him a look of devotion. Devotion to what, he did not know. Or perhaps it was not devotion at all, but comradery. In this circumstance they were alone. Others could watch and they could read every crooked detail in Rita Skeeter’s book that had depicted them as star crossed lovers, but they would never feel what he and Hermione had endured that night. “Thank you. We are going to leave now. Just the three of us. I will go pack your things.” Snape returned Edmund to his mother’s arms and remembered that he never finished his questions. “Where are we at this very moment?”

“Spinner's End.” Hermione answered confidently.

Snape nodded. “And who am I, to you?”

The little witch lifted her right hand and showed him the ministry assigned and magically attached ring that matched his own.

“Yes, I am your-“ He stuttered on the word. “-your husband.” Severus reached to her cheek and caressed her with the back of his hand until she closed her eyes with peace. “Did you know that you are a very good girl, Hermione? That you did nothing to deserve this, and I am so proud of you?”

“Yes.”

The wizard allowed himself a small grin. “And do you know that you are smart, and you are beautiful and you are doing so well caring for Edmund?”

She bobbed her head. “I know.”

Tears welled in his eyes and he traced his thumb over her lips. “And do you know that I love you more than every star that has ever burned in the sky?”

“I do. I do. I do.” Hermione repeated and he was unsure if she was agreeing or remembering the end of their vows. She looked him in the eyes with intention and what he could tell was some sort of excitement. He could not recall if she had ever been this excited in her current state. “Are we going home?”

Seveys stood, not taking his hand from her face where he knew it calmed her. Hermione leaned into his palm and he wondered if it was the warmth of the fact that it was touch much different than the horrors she had survived. “Yes, sweet girl. We are going home.”


	5. An Ally

Getting Hermione to bed had tried whatever was left of his patience at the end of an incredibly long day. She had been anxious on the short trip from where they had apparated beyond the grounds to the castle steps. Once there the witch had settled, muttering incoherently but contentedly at their son and pointing at various paintings, statues and architectural details until they reached the dungeons. In his rooms she had grown more restless and after nursing Edmund to sleep had not soothed her, he decided to administer a potion to calm her. It was three hours later when he forced a vial of drowsiness draught down her throat, as the former potion was doing little but frustrating her into a fit. Finally silencing her wailing and providing himself relief from his pounding headache, Snape looked around at the chaos caused by her outburst and manually returned each item to its proper place. It would have been far too loud to tolerate doing so with magic. After the last shard of glass had been swept, the last pillow straightened and the last scrap of bloody gauze burned, he resisted the urge to plop right into bed. An odor he could not escape was most definitely coming from his person.

Still in his clothes from the day prior - which were crusted with drool, vomit and tears belonging to both his wife and son - Severus was nearly elated by the rare opportunity to take a hot bath. He poured fragrant oils under the running water that had begun to fill his tub and inhaled the sinus clearing scent of eucalyptus, tea tree and peppermint. His outer robes were draped over the lounge chair, coat on the designated hanger and the top three buttons of his shirt undone when he heard a knock at his door.

Given the events of the past year, he recognized getting that close to a relaxing soak as a personal best. At the current rate of improvement, he believed he may actually make it into the water within the next decade.

Snape redressed with a scowl on his face and checked the spyhole to find out what dunderhead he would have to berate for ruining his evening.  _ No _ , he corrected himself,  _ my very-early-morning _ . When he saw the James Potter look alike staring back at him, he came to believe that he would not have the opportunity to sleep before his wife woke.

“Potter, what are you doing here?” Severus snapped, blocking the doorway and looking up and down the pajama clad student in front of him.

Harry scratched at the back of his neck, suddenly visibly embarrassed he hadn’t thought to change before venturing this far from his dormitory. “I wanted to check on Hermione.”

“At two in the morning? Isn’t it obvious even to a dunderhead such as yourself that drop ins are to begin no earlier than eleven and no later than supper time? Did the muggles not teach you any semblance of proper etiquette?” Snape’s anger simmered down as his exhaustion rapidly consumed the little energy he had left. “Unless, of course, you came down here brandishing your wand for another reason?”

The boy wizard looked nodded. “I had a nightmare.”

“And here I am having assumed you would be used to  _ bad dreams  _ by now.” The professor rolled his eyes. “Don’t I feel foolish.”

“I meant I had a nightmare about Hermione.” Harry swallowed hard and Severus enjoyed his obvious discomfort. He would take the simple pleasures of life where he could get them. “Sometimes I hear her screaming like she did in the graveyard but this time it seemed more real. Like she was crying. It’s probably just because I knew she was nearby. Ever since that night my mind plays tricks on me.”

“Very likely an unavoidable side effect of seeing what we have. At least you can wake from your nightmares, Potter.” Severus’s dark gaze attempted to pierce through the boy to no avail. “Hermione has to live her nightmares over and over again. There are no painless moments, only those in which she is dazed enough to mistakenly believe she is happy. Thankfully, right now is one of them.”

“She’s asleep.” Harry said, visibly relieved. 

Snape shook his head. “No, but she is heavily  _ sedated _ . The girl rarely gets more than two or three hours of sleep a night but the change of environment was becoming too stressful for her to get any type of rest.”

“You drugged her?” Harry lowered his accusatory time and his cheeks grew red. “I didn’t mean-“

Severus stiffened and pulled the door more firmly into his own hip, making it abundantly clear that he was not letting anyone into his quarters without a fight. “Yes, Potter, I have  _ drugged  _ my wife. I do it nearly every day in one way or another. It is called palliative care meaning every potion I give her is to minimize her distress.”

“Comforting her doesn’t help?” He asked. “Maybe if I tried then.”

“I suggest you bite your tongue before I see fit to sever it myself.” Snape could barely hold back from hexing him, and momentarily pondered giving into his impulse under the justification that technically Potter was not currently his student. “Until you have held her while she lost consciousness from hyperventilation, you have no right to speak on how she should be cared for. You were not hearing things tonight, Potter. She was unbelievably upset and I had to make a choice for her wellbeing. My choice, not yours. If I wanted to put it to a vote, I would have placed a ballot box outside my office and as you can see I have not.”

“Sorry,” Harry said and to that the professor raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been taking care of Hermione for a year. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

“Indeed.” He answered, surprised by what he was sure was the first time a Potter had ever sincerely apologized or shown him even a shred of respect. “I suppose I can make a single allowance in recognition of your efforts to keep Weasley from making an absolute fool of himself this past year. Do not let it happen again because I will not be so lenient. While I cannot take house points during the summer, I am certain there is still manure to be shoveled and brought to the green houses.”

“I understand, Professor.”

The lack of argument would have perplexed him if he hadn’t been so bloody tired. “Well, good.”

“I’m-“ Harry stopped, looking towards the staircase leading up to the main level and back again. “I think I’m going to go back to bed.”

“Will you sleep?” Snape inquired, berating himself for even considering asking a favor of his most irritating student. 

“Excuse me, Professor? What did you say?”

“Will you sleep, Potter?” He drew out every word, thrumming his fingers against the doorframe with impatience. 

“No, Professor, I wake up around now every night.” Snape knew this to be true by the dark circles under the boy’s eyes and the lines forming on his forehead from straining to keep alert. He had his own.

He checked his watch, noting it was the twenty-seventh hour since he had so much ss rested his eyes and wondered if he was delirious for coming up with such an idea. Quickly he decided that if he was, he was likely too much so to worry about it. “Could you manage keeping an eye on her while I attend to a personal matter? All you would need to do is sit with her and read that damned book she loves so much.”

“ _ Hogwarts; A History. _ ”

“Yes, that is the one. If I never have to read a single line about the first floor plumbing again for the rest of my life, it shall be too soon.” Snape watched Harry smirk and could not help but indulge in a discrete upturning of his lips. “As I was saying, it is easy enough that Weasley could likely manage it for an hour or two.”

His student nodded knowingly. “I can handle at least four then.”

Severus was surprised by the lack of protest at his insult of the red-headed boy until he considered that Potter was likely growing weary of Weasley himself. All other matters aside, his offer was more generous than Severus had expected. Perhaps he would have a few minutes to bathe before he got some much needed rest.

“We will see about that.” He answered, and stood aside to let his uninvited visitor pass through.

For once, the headmaster had made good on his promise to upgrade his abysmal accommodations into something more befitting of his current position. The sitting area had been made larger, providing enough room to add a loveseat and a tea table with an oil lamp. Both were adjacent to his armchair and facing the radiator that had until that morning been an open fireplace. His desk was much the same, only having been given a leaf extending forward past his clutter with two dining chairs tucked under the overhang. Nothing had been done about his kitchenette, but his more volatile and valuable potions ingredients had been moved to his laboratory which was now connected to his classroom office instead of his rooms. Eyeballs and herbs had been replaced with a few dishes, a small icebox and a mix of wizard and muggle snacks that his wife had gotten used to eating over the last year. The bed and wardrobe still sat in the same place as always, now with Hermione’s trunk at the foot, and she lay on the near side with a blanket draped over her shoulders and her head on the pillow. 

Snape watched Harry approach his wife’s bedside and sit down on a stool that he pulled out of his pocket and enlarged to proper size. Catching the professor’s curious expression, Harry shrugged and pointed to his knee on one leg and thigh on the other. “In the rush downhere I forgot my braces.”

Again, he raised an eyebrow. “Your broken bones were not healed magically?” No one had informed him there was a problem.

“Oh, no, they were.” Harry sighed, looking far more exhausted by the memory than the lack of sleep. “Too fast, I’m afraid. The potion at St Mungo’s was brewed a bit too strongly. Shattered bone fragments tore through every ligament and tendon in my leg. Did you know that wizard’s don’t have potions or spells for that? Of all things?”

Snape nodded. “I have heard as much.” As far as he had experimented, it was an area of the body oddly enough not affected by magic. 

“The rumors are true.” Potter huffed. “If walking is difficult, standing still is impossible. So, I learned it is best to come prepared. There’s a miniature of one of these in the pocket of every pair of trousers I own.” He patted the leg of his stool.

“It is a relief that you have learned at least one thing over the last five years.” Snape remarked, turning to the second door in the room that led to his bathroom. He told himself that he was going to take a quick bath and then squeeze in a two hour nap in the recliner that had been placed in Edmund’s room. Wrapped in a robe over his pajamas and wearing a pair of house slippers, Severus put up the foot rest, leaned back and closed his eyes.

In his dreams, he vaguely noted two popping sounds approximately twenty seconds apart, and when he opened his eyes it was dawn.

  
  



	6. Questions Unworthy Of Lies

Should Severus Snape have been ashamed of what he thought the moment he came back to the conscious world? 

He was unsure. 

While he noticed immediately that his son’s crib was empty, Snape did not think of Edmund. He did not wonder where he was. He did not question who was attending to his needs. Every day since the boy had been born there had always been a nurse to step in when needed and it did not immediately occur to him that now there wasn’t. He hadn’t considered it. There was no doubt in Severus’s mind that he loved the boy more than he ever thought possible. In fact, he had told Edmund just the evening before when he had kissed him goodnight that he loved the babe to the moon and back. Typically not one for such sentiments, he had gotten the phrase from one of the muggle books Hermione’s nurse had purchased. As any amateur astronomer knew, the moon was quite far from Scotland. Just as far as it is from any other place on earth, but that was irrelevant. As a student he had known the exact measure by heart in units of kilometers, apparition points, and troll’s feet. Double it, triple it, or multiply it by the count of one’s reflections in a house of mirrors, and still that distance could not hold a candle to all the stars that had ever burned in the sky. 

His Hermione.

Severus sat up faster than the back of his chair inclined and after regaining his balance found his wand in his robe pocket. He ignored the heaviness of his eyes and began dashing through the bathroom that served as a hallway to their chambers, stopping just feet into the now much larger room. Hermione lay in his bed just as she had before. She was on her side, her favorite blanket over her shoulders and the single pillow she could stand the smell of under her head. Her eyes were closed, as the drowsiness draught could force them to do at times, and the dungeon candlelight cast a warm glow over her skin and long shadows under her eyelashes. His wife was just as he had left her, and his blood ran cold.

Snape cast a tempus charm to check the time. 

_ 7:21AM. _

There was no sound but his heart thumping in his ears and the heavy breaths pulled through his suddenly constricted airways. He tried to think back to when he gave in to sedating her, which was oftentimes the worst part of his existence. In his life Snape had pillaged, tortured and killed, and he struggled far more with the horrific act of dulling the mind of a witch he had once believed could hold the world in the palm of her hand. Alas, she had scratched her arms into a bleeding mess when he turned his back for no more than forty-five seconds to brew her before-bed herbal tea, so it had to be done. He had held her mouth open, was bitten down to the bone on two different fingers, and damned himself further by pouring the potion down her throat. There had been time for him to clean and apply dittany to her wounds, bandage his own - with the knowledge that they would require Madam Pomfrey’s attention to properly heal - and rock her slowly until her sobbing stopped. Given the length of times those events tended to take - as he had gained efficiency with experience - he believed it had to have been just past midnight when he carried her to bed and brushed her hair back into the long braid she now wore.

Hermione had been sedated for seven hours.

Seven fucking hours.

Four hours longer than any trace of it should have remained in her bloodstream. 

Severus knew he was exhausted when administering the potion but twenty-six straight waking hours had never been a hindrance to the potion master’s skills. He had brewed perfect elixirs having gone twice that without so much as sitting down. For a drowsiness draught, a witch of her size would only need a quarter vial to achieve the deepest desired state within one hour, a third of a vial to be petrified and half of a vial to suppress her breathing to the point of suffocation. Could he have given her too much? No, it was impossible. He only ever bottled the second-strongest potion he gave her in quarter vial doses, as sedatives did not tend to be given during times of calm where measuring would be practical.

If not that, then what was going on? How had she simply laid in that very spot for the last seven hours?

“Are you alright, Professor?” A voice asked, making the dark wizard very nearly point his wand at the student who held Severus’s only son in his arms. “Woah, easy there. Just got Little Him to sleep.”

Snape raised an eyebrow, far more perplexed than angry that he had been caught off guard by Harry Potter in his own chambers. “His name is Edmund, if you were unaware.”

Potter bounced at the knees to hush soft whimpers, his pinched expression revealing to Severus the near unbearable pain he was enduring simply to keep the infant happy. “I know. Hermione just kept calling him that, and I thought it was a nickname or something.”

He stiffened. “It is not. I haven’t the slightest idea as to why she would say such a thing.” As far as he could recall, she never had before.

“Oh,” Was all he said, finally sitting down on the loveseat, providing Severus with relief by proxy of the long term injuries Potter had been inflicted with.

For a moment the potion’s master flipped pages of his mental catalogue detailing what was already brewed in his storeroom, looking for something that could help the boy wizard at least get through the next few hours. There were few options, none of them intended for any pain more intense than a stress headache or mild menstrual cramps. It was then considered the potions he could brew in under an hour, then under eight and next under a day. Something had to be done for the boy. It was not as if he cared what happened to Potter, Snape told himself, but that he could not help Hermione if she was more concerned with his pathetic limping than her own acclimation. His wife needed normalcy, not further disturbance.

“Hermione has been awake?” He asked, finally processing what the wizard had said.

Harry nodded. “For a few hours she was. She wanted to feed him-“ Potter looked flustered and Snape recalled exactly  _ how  _ she typically signaled she was ready to nurse the child. It typically involved disrobing the necessary amount and a lot of foot stomping until someone understood. “-but not long afterwards she wanted to have a couple of biscuits and go back to sleep. I figured I should just let her. She seemed… I think she was upset.”

“You  _ think _ ?” He very nearly snarled, cursing the universe that anyone could be so socially inept as to not know the difference between a witch that is upset and one that is not. “Was she crying? Pacing? Throwing things? It matters, Potter, so  _ think  _ harder.” Severus began searching for his logbook of her moods, episodes, meals, potions and attempts at conversation. 

“No, it wasn’t any of that. Hermione was just excitable. She kept saying ‘we did it’ and nearly jumped on the bed.” Harry looked startled, and Snape was at least a bit satisfied by the obvious discomfort. “I kept having to tell her to sit down because she was going to fall. I’d never thought I’d need to warn Hermione to be careful.”

“Welcome to my world of impossible to decipher behavior.” Still, excited wasn’t a term he had used for his wife in months. Contented was far more regularly occurring. “That is, however, peculiar. She settled down from there and went to sleep? Just like that?” He began searching for a quill to take down notes and kept to shorthand to provide ample room. The boy eyed him nervously, as if he was writing a letter of reprimand to the headmaster instead of notes about his mentally ill wife, but fortunately he did not require any prompting to begin again.

“When she first woke up it seemed like she went from completely unconscious to full of energy in only a minute or two.” Potter said, “Then she started pointing towards the door and saying ‘Little Him’ even after I figured out she wanted Edmund and brought him to her. She kept repeating and pointing across the room while he- umm- ate.” The name appeared to move awkwardly across Harry’s tongue, but when he made no sour face Snape chose to let it go. After a life of being on the defense, he would not attack when it was unwarranted. That was to say, he  _ would  _ attack anyone for them.

Severus shook his head in disbelief. “Hermione calls him different names all of the time, but I’m nearly positive she knows exactly who he is.” This time, Potter appeared to be horrified and Snape shook his head in disapproval. “Nearly positive is an impressive accomplishment in this case, not a failure. With my wife, I have learned to accept the small victories.”

“Right.” Potter said uncomfortably.

“What happened next? Quickly now.” This would never be recorded properly if she woke before the story was finished.

“Alright, okay,” Harry tapped his foot nervously. “When he fell back asleep, Hermione wanted me to put him down back in his room I think and she kept shushing me. Then when I opened the door to go, she shut it on me and took him back. She dumped out your basket of blankets-“ He pointed to the overturned pile and the basket in question which had one folded blanket covering the bottom. “-and put him in there. That’s when she started trying to get me to jump on the bed with her.”

Snape wrote quickly, running out of room on one page and turning to the next. He would add the rest of his annotations while interpreting the behavior afterwards. “And she started saying, and I quote, ‘We did it’?”

Potter nodded, standing on shaky legs that made Severus nervous and quickly but it appeared quite affectionately putting Edmund back in the basket. When he stood back up straight he scrunched his face with a tightened jaw, and immediately returned to the couch. He needed help. Yet again, Lily’s son needed his help and Severus would give it.

“Yes, that’s what she said. Over and over again. I finally calmed her down and she asked where the loo was. It was the first full sentence I’d heard her use. I think I even held the door for her and she wouldn’t walk through. I ended up calling an elf to stay here while I walked her to the prefect’s bathroom. Hermione didn't give me any trouble with that.

The professor nodded. “I placed wards on mine so that she could not enter without an escort through the threshold. You would have needed to walk through while holding her hand. Typically, her nurse and I don’t allow her anywhere with mirrors unsupervised. They remind her of cemetary.”

“Because headstones are reflective.” Potter said. Both wizards cast their eyes to the dungeon floors, their own memories making it hard to breathe at times and - even though they had witnessed it - still absolutely unable to imagine what she experienced. The younger of the two spoke first, taking his glasses off and putting his head in his hands. There were no sobs or tears, only frustration as he tried to keep his voice steady. “The last time I saw Hermione before this morning, she was on the ground writhing in pain in front of hundreds of people. Bones stuck out of her skin. Her nose and eyes were bleeding. And I remember her reaching for her wand even though she could barely breathe, and trying to conjure herself a glass of water. All she wanted to do was speak. She was in shock, Dumbledore told me. Once someone got her a drink, all she would say is that you were on our side. I think she only started crying when she watched the aurors put you in shackles.”

Snape stiffened and closed his log book. That night was the source of both his unconscious and waking nightmares, and often he wished his trial had gone the other way. 

At least then he would have been all but guaranteed the dementor’s kiss. 

At least then, he would not have to watch events he had never anticipated unfold before him.

At least then he would never have needed to come to terms with the fact that he was fully at fault.

“Why do you bring up that night, Potter? Why is it relevant to you?” Snape nearly hissed.

The boy quite clearly thought hard for a second and shook his head. “I'm not sure. I suppose I was wondering  _ how _ Hermione knew what was happening when you both followed after me. Why she went with you that night, and how she held it together. I was told what to say by the order when I testified. That was the last straw for me. After everything that’s happened, I don’t believe I can trust Dumbledore. I think he lied to me that night, because I’ve seen Hermione in shock before, at times when we’ve gotten in over our head. It’s the only time she goes quiet without a book in front of her. Of all the times to  _ be _ in over her head, that should have been one of them, but she wasn’t. Why wasn’t she in shock, Professor?” The boy did not have any accusation in his voice, only pleading to understand.

At this too, Severus stayed quiet. At first he studied his hands and his quill, but eventually gave in to looking at the same green eyes that had pulled the truth from him in his youth and now were on the verge of continuing that tradition despite learning to lie straight to them for five years. What use was it to lie to an ally? Was there any truth he could resist telling to help the witch who had saved them all?

“And, something else.” Potter looked down for a moment and then stared unfocused into the wall with a frustrated and visibly pained expression that had nothing to do with his leg. “How did you make it there in time? Why were you and Hermione together that night?”


End file.
